The Gift of Sight
by AthosAtTanagra
Summary: Knowing he is never meant to return, Haldir obeys the Lady Galadriel and sets off for Helm's Deep. But he is not resigned to die. Haldir/OC
1. Chapter 1

In his dream he was dying on rocky ramparts at night in the rain, orc swords slashing his flesh. He'd dreamed this dream before, and each time the pain and shock woke him. Haldir sat up in his bed, gasping for air, both chilled to the bone and sweating.

He heard a noise in the room beside him and at first could not remember who it would be. He had no family left. They were all gone and dead, the long years of their lives taken away by orc blades and arrows. Alone, he served the White Lady as Warden. This was all he had left.

The door opened gently and an elven woman entered. Saarsta. Had Saarsta returned? No, that wasn't right. Saarsta too was dead. His jumbled thoughts fought for order, for clarity.

"You were crying out in your sleep," the woman said quietly, seeking Haldir's gaze, and as she stepped into the room Haldir remembered. Not Saarsta, but her child. Her half human child, named Mira.

He looked away, his breath rushing out in a hiss thought his clenched teeth.

"I am awake now." He didn't wish to explain himself to her. He wanted her to leave him be.

Saarsta had been close to him once like a true sister, before she'd left Lothlorien and her adoptive family behind for her human mate. All that remained of her now was this girl, in her thirties by human years, yet a babe by elven standards. Yet she was neither fully elven nor human. Worst of all, she was a stranger. There was little of Saarsta that he could see in her. Her figure and height were her mother's, yet her brown hair and dark eyes belonged to her human father.

Mira stood just inside the doorway hesitating between an instinct to comfort him and the dismissal she sensed from him. She looked very young, and moved with that lack of poise that humans were known for, full of unrestrained emotion and impulsiveness.

Two short months ago the Lady Galadriel had granted her sanctuary. She'd come to them after her family and village had been destroyed by an orc raid. As honour and tradition required of him, Haldir had received the half human into his family, what little was left of it, and sworn his protection. Saarsta had been his bond sister. Now she was dead.

He closed his eyes tight and swallowed the familiar wave of anger and resentment. The Lady had asked many things of him of late. Soon she would send him and those under his command to fight alongside the humans one last time. And in return, she'd given him a gift of sorts. He scoffed. She'd given him the gift of sight. Haldir swung his legs over the edge of his bed, and rested his forehead in his palms.

Thanks to the Lady's gift, he dreamed of his death almost every night.

Haldir still served the White Lady and honoured his oath, yet day by day he felt himself growing distant, resigned to the knowledge of his impending death. He knew he would never glimpse Valinor's skies, never set foot on that sweet shore. And all along the White Lady watched him, cold and beautiful.

Mira came and sat beside him on the edge of the bed. In her hands was a tall glass of water. She offered it silently to Haldir and as he took it from her hand, their fingers touched.

He drank thirstily and looked sideways at her. He had lived a long time, and in that time he had loved in the way of elves, or thought that he did. He had loved his father and mother and his brothers and his bond sister, and once an elven maiden who'd wedded another. Yet he still did not comprehend what kind of emotion would make an elf leave her kind and join her life to a mortal. He hadn't understood Saarsta all those years ago. He thought he understood humans, with their limited, boisterous and weak ways. But this child of Saarsta's that was neither human nor elf, he couldn't quite figure out, and it unnerved him. By all standards she should have been a child, yet he'd learned she was not.

"My lord Warden," Mira began softly, "the White Lady has granted me leave to join you when you set out for Helm's Deep."

"She has granted you leave to die," he replied cruelly.

"The elves are leaving Middle Earth," she said, speaking of the elves as a race neither she nor he belonged to. She reached boldly and took his hand between both of hers. She touched his skin the same way that he had drunk the glass of water, thirsting for connection. It reminded Haldir again, of the frailty of humans, their need for comfort in each other. She'd lived under his protection for two short months after her parents had been killed. She was surrounded constantly by elves and yet, Haldir knew her loneliness increased daily.

"There is nothing for me here in Lothlorien," she said to him. "You are the only family I have left. If I go to my death, so be it. I wish to fight beside you."

Haldir lifted an eyebrow.

"I want to come with you when you leave for Helm's Deep. Please, take me with you."

If the White Lady had given her permission, Haldir would obey.

"You can do as you please," he told her. "Choose ever which way you wish to die. I care not."

In that unrefined human way, she couldn't hide her hurt. Her eyes welled up with tears and she bit her lip to keep from crying. She dropped his hand gently and stood.

"Have you always been this hard, Haldir?" she asked bitterly and left him.

Haldir felt a wave of anger wash over him, at the world, at his fate, at the White Lady. He wanted to hurl the glass into the far wall of his bedchamber and watch it smash into a million little sharp pieces.

He drank the rest of the water and placed the glass noiselessly on the table at his bedside.


	2. Chapter 2

When Haldir and his company headed out to war and to death, Mira, the half human half elf, walked with them. The Lady Galadriel watched them go, her face cold and white, and in her legendary poise that hid her sorrow, Haldir thought she'd never looked more merciless.

As they marched away Haldir felt his heart harden like glass. His life was being swallowed by the advancing darkness. Mira had called him hard. He barely remembered being anything else.

He thought of the half human girl now, as she walked beside him. She carried a bow on her back and a sword sheathed on the belt at her waist, yet was not trained as a warrior. He remembered with a pang of guilt that she'd asked him to train her, weeks ago, but he'd refused her. Haldir grit his teeth and stared ahead. He seemed unable to show her any kindness. Perhaps, after he was gone, the humans of Edoras or Gondor would let the half elf make her home with them. That is, if the world of men did not fall first.

He glanced at her again and saw tear streaks on her cheeks. Haldir watched her with detachment and a kind of pity. He judged this outburst of emotion to be due to the frailty of her human side. For himself, he felt neither sorrow nor fear. He had no kin and no friend to grieve for him.

Mira would grieve, a voice in his head answered.

He chased the voice away. He was nothing to her and she was nothing to him.

They made camp at night in a clearing and Mira set her pallet a few feet away. Haldir looked at the cloud-shrouded sky above their heads. The stars were veiled. They were far and cold, and he was but a candle that would soon blow out. He didn't realize when he fell asleep.

Haldir felt the orc blades slice into his flesh, felt the piercing cold and wetness of the rain, and fell to his knees. The lights of the world dimmed. This was the end, the end of all things.

He looked up and instead of the darkness he should have seen as the rain fell, he saw a clear night sky, full of stars and light. It stretched all around him, a billion stars and constellations arranged in the heavens, bright and glimmering.

"How beautiful!" Haldir thought with surprise. His knees stung from where they slammed against the rock, and the poisoned cut of the orc blade burned deep into his chest. "How beautiful," he thought again. "Why haven't I noticed the sky?"

Pain blossomed in his chest and his vision blurred. Haldir cried out.

He felt a hand holding his own and a voice, "Haldir, wake up."

Mira was leaning over him. Her hand was cold as ice on Haldir's own. He sat up, shaken and covered with sweat.

"Oh, Valar, the sky!" he gasped. "The sky!" He looked up and found the real sky blanketed in clouds. Slowly his senses returned. The dark forest around them, the sounds of the elves sleeping, the sentries watching from their lookout.

Mira sat on her heels beside him still holding his hand.

"I'm fine," he said to her. "Go back to sleep."

"She gave you the gift of sight," Mira said quietly, ignoring his order. "What is it you see? What torments you?"

"My death," he replied. "Go to sleep."

"But you see it." She shook her head in confusion. "Then change it! Have you nothing to live for?"

"What is there?" The bitterness stung his throat.

"I can't answer that question for you," she said quietly. "You pity me. You think there is no place for me in Middle Earth. Yet it is what I choose. I can still see its beauty."

"I would have chosen the ships to Valinor," Haldir said bitterly. "But for me was chosen death."

"And you are resigned to it? Have you nothing worth living for?"

The sky in his vision suddenly came to mind, but Hadir bit back the words. All around them the elves were stirring. Dawn was coming, cold and red.

They ate quietly in the bone chilling morning without lighting fires and resumed their march. Halfway through the day Mira fell behind and Haldir told himself he would not stop or slow down for her. She had chosen this march, and she would bear it as she was able.

As they were making camp that night, she found her way back to his side.

"Pick up your bow," he said to her.

After a moment's confusion, she did as he asked. He pointed to a wide oak trunk at the edge of the clearing. She loaded an arrow and stretched the bow. The wood creaked and her arms strained. The arrow shot wide.

Haldir sighed. "Another!"

He corrected her stance and gave her the pointers his training master had given him as an elfling. He'd failed to train her in time as she'd asked, and perhaps this was too little too late, but he couldn't help himself.

Her arrow went wide on the other side.

He scowled at her. "A half-elf with no skill with a bow, headed to war! The Valar preserve us! Did your mother teach you nothing?"

"You're making me nervous," she shot back. "I'm tired and it's dark." The moon was rising over the top of the branches. A group of elves had gathered behind them silently.

"The battle might not take place during the day to accommodate your eyesight. Another!" Haldir ordered.

She glared at him and loaded her bow. He barked instructions as she took aim. The arrow skimmed the trunk of the tree and ricocheted into the bushes.

"Is that the best you can do?" he demanded. "When we are in the midst of battle and your aim could fall an orc that's got its sword at my throat?"

"Perhaps 'tis best if I let it live," she answered. The elves behind them chuckled. Haldir turned to glare at them.

"Again!" he ordered. He forced himself to be silent as she loaded and took aim. There were things she was still doing wrong, but he bit his tongue. Her arms strained and she squinted in the near darkness and released. The arrow shot true into the middle of the trunk.

She turned to him with a triumphant smile.

"One in four!" he declared mockingly. "You'd finally kill an orc as he was finished cleaning off my bones."

"Take some comfort that your death will be avenged," she answered tartly.

"Fetch your arrows before it grows too dark to find them," he told her and tried to hide his amusement. The frustration on her face told him he didn't succeed entirely.

She fell asleep as soon as her head touched the ground. The only concession that she'd forgiven him was that she'd set her pallet close to his own. Afraid of his dreams, Haldir sat awake and watched her sleep.

Another day's march and they would reach the gates of Rohan's fortress. Within the walls of Helm's Deep, his fate would be decided.

As he drifted into slumber, he felt Mira reach across and take his hand in hers. He pretended to be asleep and didn't push her away. And when he finally did sleep, he dreamed of a wide glimmering cupola of stars and constellations, sparkling in a million colours above him in the dark sky.


	3. Chapter 3

At nightfall on the third day, before the drums and torches of Saruman's army, the company reached Helm's Deep. The gates were opened and Haldir marched his elves through them knowing he took them to their death.

And for what, he wondered. For men, who had brought Middle Earth to ruin with their weakness? If not for men, he and his elves might still see the shores of Valinor.

A figure ran towards him and as he came closer Haldir recognized the Ranger, Aragorn, who had been part of the company that passed through Lothlorien not many moons ago. Haldir held himself up stiffly to his full height and made to bow, but Aragorn disregarded every formality, and, to Haldir's surprise, embraced him.

"My friend," Aragorn said warmly. "It's good to see you!"

A knot formed in Haldir's throat and he swallowed it down. Aragorn was worn and tired, yet as Haldir blinked, Aragorn's clothing changed to the white garb of the kings of old and on his head appeared a crown. This was no mere Ranger, Haldir realized. The vision melted away and Aragorn was once again a plain man, tears of gratitude in his eyes.

As Aragorn led him and his company deeper into the fortress, Haldir looked around him and saw faces of men, old and young, wearing armour and holding weapons. They watched the elves march in and their eyes showed surprise and hope, the kind of hope that comes in the wake of deep despair.

The knot in Haldir's throat tightened. He scowled and glanced sideways at Mira. She was caught in the same exploration of the faces around her, her eyes wide and wet with unshed tears. Humans, he scoffed inwardly, but knew the disdain to be thin and mostly out of habit. There had been no weakness in Aragorn's tears.

At the end of their three day march, there was no time to rest. The elven archers arranged themselves on the battlements. Haldir walked with Aragorn down the length of the wall followed by Aragorn's companions, Legolas of Mirkwood and the Dwarf, Gimli, whom Haldir remembered well, for he made more noise than a whole army of elves.

They gazed out at the gathering black swarm of uruk'hai arriving before the wall. Their columns spread as far as the eye could see, seemingly without end.

"'Tis a grim sight," Legolas spoke.

"What?" Gimli demanded. "What sight? What do you see?" The top of the Dwarf's head reached to the base of the crenels on the rampart. He raised himself on tiptoes and still could not see beyond.

"Should I find you a box?" Legolas asked softly. "Or perhaps I could lift you?" Haldir raised an eyebrow expecting the impertinent questions to be answered with violence.

Instead the Dwarf grumbled. He jumped a few inches in the air, as far as his stature permitted and each time got a quick glimpse of the army beyond.

Haldir noticed the silent chuckle and look that passed between Aragorn and Legolas. Gimli glanced up at them and gave a frustrated huff. He was wearing a man's chainmail that trailed to the ground around him like a skirt, and rattled noisily every time he moved.

Legolas frowned at him. "Could you find no better fitted mail?"

"None with enough girth," Gimli replied with pride, holding his arms in a circle around his midriff to indicate his considerable belly. Aragorn gave a bark of a laugh.

"I remember Marchwarden Haldir saying you made so much noise he could have shot you in the dark," Legolas observed, and watched with satisfaction as Gimli bristled. "With that chainmail on, you're ten times as loud."

"Well, good thing there's no need for stealth now, eh, laddie?" the Dwarf parried with a hearty chuckle.

What was this, Haldir wondered. Friendship, a voice in his head answered, and it sounded very much like Mira's. Friendship between a dwarf, a human and an elf. This was the beauty of Middle Earth. This was what Mira saw and what he'd missed for the hundreds of years that he'd immured himself in his closed elven fold.

They walked back along the wall. The ranks of uruk'hai had closed in. The armies of Orthanc had arrived, and were now awaiting orders for attack. Haldir saw their hideous faces, and wondered that they had been once elves, his own kin. He felt a shiver run up his spine.

He reached the place in line where Mira stood between two elves, conspicuously dressed in a mishmash of human and borrowed elvish armour.

"A woman," Legolas exclaimed noticing her. He glanced between Mira and Haldir.

Mira bit her lip.

"She is my kin," Haldir answered and saw Mira's eyes widen in surprise.

"Are you especially skilled with bow and arrow that you join the front lines in this gruesome fight?" Legolas asked tentatively.

"She is terrible with a bow and arrow," Haldir pronounced. He ignored the outrage on her face. "I want you to go into the caves with the women and children," he told her.

"You said I could fight! You said I could die whichever way I chose."

Haldir flinched at her words. He gasped her upper arm and turned her to face the horde. "Look at them!" he bit out. "They have no mercy and no soul. They'd rip you to shreds and feast on your flesh before you are even dead."

She paled. "You think these boys wearing armour are going to put up much fight?" she asked, pointing to the child soldiers in the Rohirim's ranks. "You need every able arm," she argued.

"No! I need you to live. I want you in the caves."

"I will fight," she declared raising her chin stubbornly.

"You're rubbish with a bow and arrow," he pleaded. "You'd miss a stationary target at twenty paces!"

"Yes, but my father taught me to use a sword. And I am not rubbish at that."

Haldir looked at her, bewildered. "I've never seen you yield one."

"How could you? You refused to train me!" she yelled at him.

Haldir squeezed his eyes shut and willed the pounding of his blood to subside. The horde below the wall had started a steady thumping with their booted feet and spears. The battle was about to start.

"Your sister could join those on the keep wall and defend the line behind us," Legolas suggested diplomatically.

"She's not my sister," Haldir snapped at the other elf. "Gods, Mira! Just do as I tell you. If not the caves, than at least the keep wall."

She looked behind towards it and shook her head. "It's too far," she whispered.

"From what?"

She raised her chin stubbornly. And Haldir finally understood.

"You think you can keep my destiny from me?"

"I can but try. If you won't. And it is not your destiny. Don't say that."

He shook his head with a laugh of defeat.

"If I promise to try, will you go to the keep?"

"I don't want to, but I will if you hold to your promise."

"I swear it, then."

"I'll go." She looked like she would say more, but then she turned and raced down the battlement steps and up the slope to the keep wall.

Unsure if he could keep his promise, Haldir watched her go, then unsheathed his sword and turned to stand beside his elves and beside Aragorn and his men. The uruk'hai below had added their voices to the war drum. The noise rose in pitch until the walls shook. War was upon them.


	4. Chapter 4

A light breeze made the torches on the wall flicker. The war shouts of the horde were deafening. The sound pierced men and elves' hearts and made them tremble with horror.

"What's happening? Are they coming?" the Dwarf asked Legolas.

"Almost. You're mighty impatient."

"When they come, send them to me!" the Dwarf demanded.

From two paces beside them, despite the grim view below, Haldir couldn't suppress a laugh. He took a deep breath. He'd die with honour fighting beside such as these.

With a roar, the front lines of the horde broke into a run. The attack had begun. Siege ladders with sharp metal hooks hit the top of the battlements. Haldir felt a flutter in his chest, a mix of fear and exhilaration.

How long had he been asleep, alive yet already dead? The White Lady had known it. She'd given him sight to see true death so he would know again what it is to be alive. "You pity me," Mira had said to him, but he now understood that it had been she who had pitied him_. _I want to live, Haldir thought as his blade slashed into the first orc to appear above the wall.

Wave after wave of uruk'hai poured over the ramparts and were cut down. Men and elves, shoulder to shoulder, held the wall against the invading horde. Haldir felt the strain in his muscles, but fought like he'd never fought before. He looked around him and saw that the defenses of Helm's Deep were holding. He felt life and strength flow through his veins. He would fight. He would live.

He heard Aragorn cry out and his eye was drawn to an orc running towards the wall with a flaming torch, while the lines behind him pulled back. What trickery had Saruman planned, Haldir wondered with a shudder. He had the gift of sight. Why had he not seen it? Had he been so fixated on his own fate that he'd been blind to the rest of the world?

Legolas shot three arrows in quick succession, each finding their mark in the orc's chest, but it did not slow down. The orc dove into the drain ditch beneath the wall, its flaming torch held forward like a spear.

A crackling like the sound of a tree branch breaking under the weight of heavy ice came from below and the wall trembled beneath their feet. The sound grew to a resounding roar, and twenty feet away, the wall burst outwards, bricks and stone flying out like projectiles. The tremors threw Haldir to the ground. And when he stood, his ears deaf and pounding from the blast, he saw it. The gaping hole in the outer wall. Water from the drain ditch gathered in the new-formed crater in the earth. Through the mud and the water, the black army swarmed in.

Lightning split the sky. As the rain began to fall Haldir felt the dream descend over the present until the two merged irrevocably. This was it. He had lived this moment a hundred times before.

He heard Aragorn call and felt the orc blade slash deep into his side. The sky was dark with rain. He parried the next blow, his teeth set together against the pain and against the image he had seen so often in his dreams. He knew where the next blow would fall. He blocked again. He twisted around, feeling the orc draw up behind him, and caught his blade with his own. The dark blade, wet with blood touched his neck and losing strength, he strained to repel it.

He heard a cry from the city wall and his eyes flew up. Mira, he thought. She was not safe. The orcs had reached the keep wall. As he fought against his opponent, his eyes searched for her, then saw her, with her feet braced on the high wall, bow tight, arrow aimed straight towards him.

"Valar have mercy!" Haldir cried. "She's going to kill me herself." Her arrow launched and in the same moment Haldir used what little strength he had left to twist both himself and the orc around until the orc's back faced the courtyard, like a shield. He felt the orc shudder as the arrow pierced its heart and the grip around Haldir's throat loosened. Haldir shoved him off and finished him with his blade.

Haldir threw a look towards the inner keep wall, hoping Mira was done trying to save him. He could almost picture her white faced and trembling. Had he not moved, that arrow would have pierced his own heart. He almost laughed, but for the pain in his side.

He stumbled and looked around him. Three orcs were closing in. The bodies of his dead kin littered the ground, their glassy eyes turned unseeing to the dark sky. He felt another sword pierce his flesh and with a great lurch forward he fell on his knees. The sky, dark and close, hung above him. Yet in his mind's eye, he saw that other sky, the one from his dream, full of stars and light and colour.

That sky did not belong here, he thought, not at the moment of his death, mocking him with its beauty and promise. He blinked to will the image away and when he opened his eyes once more he saw an orc's descending mace, aimed at his face.

And suddenly Aragorn was there. Time slowed down. Through Haldir's hazy sight Aragorn was once again dressed in the white robes of the king. His face was terrible and kind and with his arm raised high he held a flaming sword, the shattered Andúril made new. Were he not already on his knees, Haldir would have knelt and bowed his head. A word rose in his throat and he mouthed it soundlessly.

"Elessar," Haldir whispered as Aragorn's blade fell and severed the orc's hand.

The mace clattered to the ground and time sped up. Haldir felt the pain of his wound, the wetness of the rain soaking through his armour and clothes.

"We must retreat," Aragorn shouted, and leaning heavily on him, Haldir let him lead the way. He drifted in and out of consciousness, feeling hands supporting him, dragging him along. The battle cries and clashes of steel sounded behind him. He saw elves of his company close ranks behind them as they retreated.

He was placed on the ground and he blacked out a while, for when he came to he was being carried. The ceiling was high and rough and cavernous above him. Was this the underworld? He heard water tripping and whispers and children's cries. No, the caves. He felt a hand take his and squeeze it, and turning his head he saw Mira above him. Of course, he thought wryly. Who else would dare?

"I haven't seen this before," he tried to say to her. But something choked him, something warm filling his throat and mouth. He coughed and saw blood drops splatter in the air above him.

"Don't speak," she urged him. "Just breathe, Haldir. Don't speak."

He did as she told him, and watched the cavernous damp ceiling move above him, reflecting the light of the torches like a sky full of stars. Perhaps this had been the beautiful sky of his death. No, that was past. That vision was past. It had lost its power over him. He forced his mind to dispel every last bit of it. He would no longer obsess over his fate.

He looked at Mira willing her to understand. He wanted to live. He wanted to be useful.

"Stay awake!" she called to him, pinching his hand. "Don't close your eyes."

He wanted to do as she asked, but his lids closed nonetheless and all he saw was darkness.


	5. Chapter 5

He was floating in a twilight sky streaked with purple. Below him, the mountain tips sharp as blades shouldered in white snow. In the distance he saw a spark of gold. A fire. A fire burning on the mountain. And then another, and another, lighted in succession until the mountain range was adorned in a string of fire, like a braided dandelion chain that children weaved in summer.

He flew over the peaks and out over an open field. At the far end of the field, he saw a white city, and in its topmost part, a burning tree. Aragorn, in his white robes and crown, in his hand a bloody sword, stood before it as if defending it. Haldir's mouth opened to shout a warning, yet no sound came.

The dream faded and he woke to voices arguing around him.

"We cannot leave him behind. The White Lady can heal him."

"He won't live through the journey!" Mira's voice, laced with panic. "Aragorn, please!"

"Perhaps we should ask him."

Faces turned to him and Haldir willed his eyes to focus on them. An elf knelt beside where he lay. He recognized his second in command.

"My Warden," the elf said softly, "you are wounded. What is left of our company will set back at dawn. Our task here is done. We must return to Lothlorien at once, to make the journey to the ships. We wish to carry you with us."

Haldir's eyes sought Mira's. "The battle?" he asked in a whisper. She knelt beside him on the other side.

"Won," she answered.

"You are staying?"

She nodded, her eyes sad. "Yes. There is no place for me amongst the elves. Haldir, you are gravely wounded and I do not think you will survive the journey. Don't leave. Not like this."

Haldir thought of Lothlorien, of the tall trees, of the voices of the elves singing at sunset. The White Lady's gift and her final goodbye. He felt Mira's hand clutching his. It should have been simple but he could not decide. "Aragorn," he whispered to Mira. There was something he had to tell him.

She stood and looked behind her and Haldir turned his head to follow her eyes. The motion made him dizzy. "Fire," Haldir said.

Aragorn knelt beside Haldir's bed and took his hand. "My friend, what is it?"

"Fire," Haldir repeated. "Fire on the mountain."

Aragorn frowned in concentration and shook his head. "I don't understand."

"Look to the mountain," Haldir said again with effort.

"We will take him," the elves said to Mira.

"You will do nothing of the sort," she bristled, raised herself up to her full height and stepped between them and Haldir's bed.

Haldir closed his eyes and unconsciousness took him.

...

When Haldir awoke again he felt the ground shaking beneath him. He opened his eyes and saw bright lights spearing through sewn edges of dark canvas. He was lying on his back in a moving carriage.

Lothlorien. He was returning to Lothlorien. Unbelievably, he had lived, and he was returning home. He would live to see the shores of Valinor.

Disoriented, he wondered if Mira was nearby, then stopped short. He would not find her here. He would not find her ever. A sharp aching emptiness opened in the pit of his stomach. They'd parted ways.

In his mind's eye he saw her in her mismatched armour defending the keep wall of Helm's Deep. He'd left her behind when the fate of Middle Earth and the world of men hung by a thread. He was responsible for her and he'd just left her to live or die. Where he was going no news of her would ever reach him.

And Aragorn, the man who'd saved his life. Had Aragorn understood Haldir's dream? Had it helped him at all? He was leaving and felt behind him the loose threads trailing, nagging him with the guilt of unfulfilled purpose.

Haldir sat up. The wound in his side pulled and stabbed with fresh pain. He groaned and fell forward on his right arm. He struggled to sit up and tried to call out. He saw before him two figures on the driving bench behind the horses. One turned around hearing his cry, and climbed into the back.

It was Aragorn.

Haldir fell back onto his bed with a sigh of relief. Aragorn knelt beside him.

"Don't try too much at once, Haldir," he said. "You're mending, but the journey's bad enough on your wounds."

Haldir closed his eyes to hide his relief. If Aragorn was here, Mira would be too.

"Lothorien?" he asked softly.

"No," Aragorn said after a brief pause. "Rohan, and the house of the horse lords. Edoras."

Haldir was still while he absorbed the news. "And yet I recall Mira saying I was too gravely wounded to travel," he said.

Aragorn was silent, and Haldir opened his eyes to look at him. He was glancing away with a pained expression on his face.

"You said she was your kin," Aragorn finally spoke, meeting Haldir's eye. "She wouldn't let them anywhere near you." He raised an eyebrow and tilted his head expectantly.

Haldir closed his eyes and let out a loud breath through his nose. He muttered something quick and elvish under his breath.

"Where is she now?"

"Keeping her distance in case you woke up," Aragorn said and then surprisingly his face broke into a grin.

Haldir swore again, but barked out a laugh. His chest burned and his ribs hurt. He focused on shallow breaths until the pain subsided.

"She's been nothing but trouble to me since she appeared."

"She did send word to Lothlorien," Aragorn added. "You'll see the shores of Valinor yet, Haldir. The Lady Galadriel would not leave Middle Earth without you."

...

A warm breeze flicked strands of hair into his face. Haldir reclined in the wooden chair Aragorn had set out for him on the terrace of Edoras. Below him he could see the training grounds. He'd wanted to go all the way down the keep steps and watch from closer still, but even leaning heavily on Eomer and Aragorn, he'd only made it this far from his bed.

Haldir had not pushed the issue. He was frustrated for being so weak but determined to heal, and heal quickly. The war was still ahead, and he did not intend to spend it lying in a bed.

"Stubborn like a dwarf," Eomer had called him. Haldir would have considered this an insult, if not for the pleased expression it had brought to Gimli's face.

The scraping of wood on stone alerted him to Aragorn's return. Aragorn placed his chair beside Haldir's and lit his pipe. Below on the training ground, Legolas strung his bow while Mira, Merry, Eowyn and Gamling with bows of their own watched and tried to mirror his movements. Gimli, leaning stubbornly on his axe, heckled from the sidelines.

They'd arrived in Edoras a week earlier, yet Haldir had barely spoken to Mira. Sometimes, in the middle of the night he would wake briefly and see her asleep in a chair at his side, but when daylight came she would be gone.

He thought it was for the best. After all, he would soon be gone, and she needed to cleave to a new family. He felt a dull pain in his forearms and looking down realized he was gripping the armrests of his chair hard enough to strangle. He let go and set his palms gently on his thighs.

Gandalf the White had ridden off that morning for Gondor accompanied by one of the Halflings.

"Have you had any more dreams?" Aragorn asked him.

"Again the same," Haldir replied.

Nothing from his dream had come to pass. The beacon of Amon Din had stayed unlit, while day after day Theoden King refused Aragorn's advice to ride to Gondor's aid without a plea for help. Haldir felt another wave of frustration wash over him. He understood a thing or two about holding grudges. It was not a weakness humans had monopoly of.

He looked below to the training grounds and forced his attention there.

He watched as Legolas stepped up behind Mira and adjusted her stance. Haldir gripped the armrests of his chair again. From where he sat, Legolas looked like he'd stepped in so close that he was nearly touching her from thigh to cheek.

Haldir felt the blood boil in his veins. A teacher didn't take advantage of his position to get this close to a pupil, he reasoned. He hadn't taken such liberties when he'd given Mira archery lessons on the way to Helm's Deep. What in the Valar's name did the blasted Mirkwood elf think he was doing?

Then he saw the elf reach his arms around Mira to cover her own grip, and Haldir was out of his chair and down five steps before he realized what he was doing. A sharp stab of pain in his side reminded him he was injured and he sat down heavily on the steps.

He heard Aragorn come down behind him and take a seat on the stair beside him.

"You weren't so agile a moment ago when Eomer and I brought you out," Aragorn commented.

Haldir drew sharp breaths and leaned back against the steps to fight back the wave of nausea that rose in his throat. Mira's laughter floated up from the training grounds.

"Oh, Valar," Haldir groaned, "give me patience!"

"It's easy to be frustrated, my friend," Aragorn said slowly. "Your body will heal. You will have all your strength back. And you will soon return home."

Yes, Haldir thought, he would soon return home and leave all this behind.


	6. Chapter 6

Mira had shouted at him that he was doing too much too soon, and stormed off to Valar knew where. Haldir, more determined than ever, spent the next half hour in a parody of a training fight with Gimli, who seemed to be the only creature alive that had not told him to take it easy; his best friend this day by far.

Every time the Dwarf brought him down and set his axe at his throat, Haldir growled and looked around for a trace of Mira, or the Mirkwood princeling, but neither were to be found.

Aragorn brooded on the steps to the keep, his eyes flitting back and forth between his pipe and the top of Amon Din.

On his backside once again, Haldir admitted defeat. His head pounded, the wound in his side, although healed considerably, burned like a brand iron. His legs and arms trembled with fatigue. He let himself lie there, sprawled out and drawing deep breaths while Gimli shuffled uncomfortably above him.

"If you've had enough, then, Marchwarden," the Dwarf muttered, "we can call it a day. I grow weary of wiping the ground with you."

Haldir said a few choice words about dwarves, and Gimli burst into hearty laughter.

"The beacon!" Aragorn shouted above them. "The beacon is lit!" he looked down at the training grounds and met Haldir's gaze, then launched himself two steps at a time towards the great hall where Theoden sat.

Haldir looked to the south where the pyre burned upon the mountainside. Gondor called for aid, or rather he thought, Gandalf the White had managed to convince Gondor's Stewart to call for aid. Not an easy feat, Haldir was sure. He knew a little of Gondor's Stewart, and liked none of it.

Legolas had appeared beside them.

"And where have you been?" Gimli demanded.

"Must I give notice of my movements?" he demanded of the Dwarf.

"We're going to war," Gimli declared.

"So we are."

Haldir pulled himself to his feet and with his left hand on the wound at his side, started climbing the steps gingerly. Beneath his palm he felt the warm wetness of fresh blood soaking through his shirt. He hated admitting it, but Mira had been right. He'd done too much too soon and reopened it, and now that they rode to war, he was already regretting it.

As if knowing he would have preferred avoiding her, Mira met him at the top of the steps.

"Have you heard?" she asked breathlessly and he nodded. Her eyes sought the burning beacon. Men rushed around them, calling out. Messengers came out of the hall, ready to ride out to gather the Rohirrim and those still loyal to Theoden King.

Mira's gaze turned to where Haldir was holding his hand at his side. She frowned and shook her head.

He put his right hand up to stop any words she may have had for him.

"Save it. I must get ready," he said.

Her disapproval turned to anger.

"Ready?" she shouted. "Ready for what?"

"To ride," he clarified. "To go to battle."

"What use are you in battle?" she yelled. "You're bleeding again and a Dwarf who was being careful of your wound just made mincemeat of you on the training grounds. You want to ride to battle? For what? So I can bury you?"

"If it weren't for you kidnapping me," he answered, "I'd be on my way to the Grey Heavens."

"Who's stopping you from going there now?"

He watched her tie her sword belt on.

"Someone has to keep you from getting yourself killed."

She scoffed and looked him up and down. "And you think that's you? Never felt much responsibility for me before when you were ready to leave me to my fate."

They were both fighting dirty, so Haldir thought it shouldn't matter how much her words stung.

"Well, if I'm going to leave, what does the manner of my exit count? Dead or gone, it would be the same to you," he shot back and saw her flinch.

Legolas came carrying her bow and arrows. He passed them to her quietly and moved on, conscious he'd interrupted something. Haldir's jaw locked at the silent familiarity between them.

"I thought you would choose better where to make your friends," Haldir said, keeping his voice low so that they wouldn't be overheard. "The Mirkwood princeling won't stay. He'll enjoy these adventures and then take off with the rest of his kind."

She muttered something under her breath that sounded a lot like "just like you, then."

"What?"

"Nothing. Forget it," she mumbled and Haldir watched her walk away.

On the road south, Haldir rode silently beside Aragorn. Legolas and Gimli came behind and Mira, he knew not where she was. He regretted his words to her. He didn't know why he'd wanted to hurt her. Perhaps to make it easier for her to let him go. His side hurt and his body felt weak and tired.

"Because of you, I never doubted," Aragorn suddenly said, and Haldir had to pull himself together to listen. "Your visions gave me hope, Haldir," Aragorn clarified.

"What are you saying?"

"You've already done all that was asked of you and more, my friend."

Haldir rode silently. He was being released of all responsibility.

He had followed the White Lady's orders and stood beside mankind one last time at the battle for the Hornburg. He had done his duty. He owed them nothing more. He was free to leave. Free to leave Middle Earth.

He looked sideways at Aragorn for any sign of disappointment, but Aragorn's face showed none. He'd told Aragorn of his dreams, warned him of all he had seen. There was nothing more.

Haldir looked ahead at the road before him. They would soon reach Harrowdale where the Rohirrim were to gather. He had the night to make his decision.


	7. Chapter 7

The fire burned orange and blue. They had set up tents for the night high on the cliff of Harrowdale. Below on the fields, the Rohirrim were settling in and new riders arrived every hour.

Haldir sat and stared at the flames. Beside him, Eomer still fumed from his argument with his sister. Eowyn wanted to fight, and Eomer would not allow it. Haldir looked up at Mira sitting across from him between Gimli and Gamling. He wished he had such authority to forbid her to fight, but he'd given up that right.

As the fire popped and sparked, Gamling hummed under his breath. Quietly at first, Mira joined in and sang the words to his melody. Gamling glanced up at her, surprised. His courage soared and his song took shape in a surprising warm baritone. She matched his pace and filled in the harmony, until the melody rose like the smoke and sparks from the fire, billowing above them in the dark sly.

Haldir had never heard Mira sing. Her voice was not strong and clear like that of an elf, but it suited her. He watched her face in the shadow of the fire, the way her lips moved, and the way she drew breath. A knot formed in his throat and he swallowed it back.

When the last words left his lips and the song faded away, Gamling's eyes were wet with tears.

Legolas had appeared and stood silently behind them.

"Few people know that song in Rohan," Gamling said to Mira. "Your kin were from the lowlands?"

She smiled. "Aye, my father's people were from the Gladden Fields. And before that, Rhovanion, until they were driven across the Anduin many years ago."

"My mother came from the Rhovanion folk," Gamling said.

"And mine from the Elven race of Lorien," Mira answered and her voice held a trace of bitterness.

Gamling watched her quietly.

"An unlikely match. In the days old there would be songs written about them."

Mira stared at the flames. She bowed her head and hair coming lose from her braid fell over her cheek obscuring her face. She ran a hand over her eyes.

"There are no songs, and too few left alive to remember," she said finally.

She looked up through the curtain of her hair and met Haldir's gaze across the flames. In her eyes there was such sadness that he wanted to stand and go to her, but Haldir balled his fists and looked away.

"Did they love each other?" Gamling asked.

Haldir scoffed. For a seasoned warrior, the Rohan Captain was remarkably sentimental.

"Aye, they did," he heard Mira say.

Legolas stepped forward and took a seat between Mira and Gimli. He had three cups of ale in his hands and he passed one each to them.

"To long-lost loved ones," he said. He raised his cup in a silent salute, and the others raised their own and drank.

"There's an old dwarvish song," Gimli began, "of an elven prince that fell in love with a lovely dwarf maiden."

Legolas choked and sprayed his mouthful of ale into the fire. The flames leapt high, and Mira and Gimli jumped backwards to avoid being singed. Gamling burst into hearty laughter and Eomer's shoulders shook silently.

"Or perhaps it was the other way around," Gimli mused as he righted himself back onto his seat.

Haldir stood and walked away. Away from the fire the air was chilled. He paced about in the darkness without knowing where we went.

He thought back of Saarsta's last day in Lothlorien, of her plea that Haldir meet her beloved, and his own decisive refusal. He remembered her anguish and her disappointment. He had buried his own regret deep. He had turned his back on anything that was different. He'd failed their friendship. Acknowledging it now only made the memories more painful.

He looked back towards the fire. He would regret this too, he knew. Mira's eyes would haunt him all the rest of his long years.

A rush of wind brought Haldir's head up. A smell of autumn on the breeze, of rushing waters and galloping horses. His senses were suddenly on full alert. His hand went to the hilt of his sword.

A cloaked rider was coming up the path. Haldir pulled his sword out in one smooth motion.

"Hail Marchwarden, lay down your arms," came the greeting, and recognizing the voice Haldir bowed his head.

"Lord Elrond," he answered, bewildered.

The Lord of Rivendell dismounted and came close.

"I had not expected you here," Lord Elrond said with a slight tilt of his head.

"Neither did I you."

Lord Elrond narrowed his eyes. "There is still need of us," he said as if speaking to himself.

"I thought our time was over."

"The time of the Elves is over," Elrond agreed. "Yet the time of those that remain just now begins. Show me to Aragorn's tent," he demanded, and Haldir obeyed silently.

...

Haldir was floating away from the shore towards Valinor. Middle Earth fell away behind him. He looked down towards his feet and where there should have been the deck of a boat, there was just air.

He looked back towards the shore and saw it engulfed in flames. The forest of Lothlorien burned. Behind it, the white city of men burned. He was too far to see it, but he knew, on the topmost terrace of Minas Tirith, the white tree burned. The trees and the earth groaned and creaked in the blaze. Above it all, the stark disembodied eye of Sauron thrashed in its tower.

How could the elves leave Middle Earth to burn, Haldir wondered.

He felt blindly for the hilt of his sword and forced his limbs to move. He took a step in the air, and whatever had been holding him afloat dissipated. With a shout, he fell into the water, the waves closing over his head. His body was heavy and he sank. Down and down he went, the sea getting darker as he descended.

He thrashed his arms and legs, fought to swim up. He broke through to the surface with a shout and at the same moment, sat up bewildered and awake in his tent.

Aragorn, followed by Legolas and Gimli had slipped away in the night following the Paths of the Dead through the White Mountains. His own visions told him nothing of Aragorn's journey. If Elrond had sent him there, Haldir knew he could succeed. But now those that remained began to doubt. And if he also left them...

Haldir stumbled out without bothering to put on his armour. He found a bucket of water, refilled his water skin and drank deeply.

He felt Mira come up behind him before he heard her.

"Let us not part enemies, Haldir," she said. Her eyes were red rimmed and puffy.

"Never that, no matter how we argue," he admitted.

Her shoulders sagged a little and she took a deep breath.

"Where are you headed, Haldir?"

"To Minas Tirith and to war," he answered.

"Why?"

"Because Middle Earth is still my home," he answered plainly. "I would not leave and see it burned behind me. I will not leave until it's made safe once more." He looked at his feet. He stretched his left arm, testing out the tightness of the wound. "Would you help me?" he asked, pulling at the bandages beneath his shirt.

"Aye," she answered. "I suppose I could do that."

She followed him to his tent with healing salve and fresh bandages.

"I will still need to breathe," he complained, as she pulled the strips of cloth tight around his chest.

"They'll hold your wound closed during battle," she answered. "Quit your whining."

"I do not whine."

"No, that is true," she relented, "you brood." She yanked one more time to tighten the wrap before she tied it. He gasped.

"You really are set to kill me."

"You've seen that in your visions?"

"My visions are mercifully silent when it comes to you."

She scoffed. "You'll live. Women wear corsets tighter than this."

"Not you, surely." He regretted the words as soon as they left his lips, for the image of Mira wearing women's clothing came easily to mind.

She paused and stared at him, wide eyed. "And why not I?" She moistened her lips. "Perhaps I have, in better times." She turned away and busied herself closing the jar of ointment and gathering up the old bandages.

Haldir tried to hide his smile, but he needn't have bothered. Mira looked everywhere else but at him.

He pulled his shirt on and then one by one the pieces of his armour.

"I saw a dwarf woman once," Mira said, "with such a mighty corset that when she bowed her head, her chin rested ..." she tried gesturing by way of explanation, "and her braided beard fell in right between ..." she trailed off, and turned to Haldir, horrified of where the conversation had headed. He didn't bother to hide his laughter.

"Some would find that attractive," Haldir teased.

"Perhaps the elven prince in Gimli's story," she suggested, and Haldir laughed harder.

They walked out to join Eomer and Gamling at the King's side.

"Have you seen my sister?" Eomer asked Mira, and when she shook her head he tried to hide the look of worry on his face. "We did not part well last night," he admitted. He frowned at the soldiers rushing about the, and finally set his helmet on his head and mounted his horse. "We are almost ready. Get ready to ride," he said and spurred his horse forward. Mira tied her sword on and Haldir frowned.

"I wish you would not fight," he admitted. "At least stay by my side."

"Believe me, Haldir," she said to him over her shoulder, "I have neither such skill nor such confidence to cut my own path through the orc ranks." She gave him a pointed look. "I'm sticking to you like a burr."

He scowled at her as she mounted her horse. He didn't want her honest introspection at the moment. He would have found a pretense of overconfidence more reassuring. But he'd forgotten. She was half human.

He swore softly and mounting his horse he followed her down the hill to the front of the line.


	8. Chapter 8

The moon had set and King Theoden had ordered a stop. This was the final breath before battle. Before dawn they would set off again and reach the Pelennor Fields within two hours. They'd been ordered to try and sleep to regain their strength, but after two days of riding and the mounting anxiety for the day to come, most of the Rohirrim lay awake or sat closely together whispering in the night despite their fatigue.

Haldir lay awake listening to Mira's deep breaths from where she lay fast asleep beside him. She frowned a little in her sleep and her fingers clenched and unclenched, fighting whatever monsters she was dreaming of. And Haldir knew that he would give his last breath so that she would live. He reached over and smoothed out the wrinkles on her forehead with his fingertips. He unclasped her fingers and took her hand in his. She sighed in her sleep.

He thought of Aragorn and wondered how he fared on his quest to win the service of the Dunlendings. He knew they would meet again, since he knew Aragorn would live to defend the white tree of Gondor. Haldir wondered at the battle to come and whether he would live or die, and his path afterwards.

He didn't realize when sleep took him.

He was in a garden that he had never seen before. Red roses climbed walls of white stone. He turned and saw Mira standing before him, and she was wearing buttercup-yellow gown. She looked as well in it as he'd imagined. He almost smiled and joked about the corset to hide his emotion, yet she looked sad. She reached for his hand and took it in both of hers. She opened her mouth to speak and Haldir waited patiently for what she had to say.

A hand shaking his shoulder startled him awake. Eomer leaned over him.

"It is time," the Rohan Marshal said. "We ride."

Mira was already on her feet attending to her horse. Her hands shook on the fastenings.

...

"Mira!" Haldir yelled, his voice barely hiding the panic rising in his throat.

He stumbled over a few orc bodies littering the ground while his eyes scanned wildly all around. Another orc charged at him, and Haldir cut it down. The enemy ranks were scattered, most of them retreating or running away.

He held his sword in his left arm and held his right gingerly close to his body. He'd twisted it at an odd angle in an awkward scuffle. He'd heard it snap and he'd lost his grip. He suspected it was broken, but the pain hadn't really reached him yet.

"Mira!" he hollered again.

She'd promised to stay near him. The battle was nearly over. They'd survived the worst of it before Aragorn's reinforcements arrived in the Corsair ships. He'd fought this battle alongside men so that she would have a chance at a future, and now... Where was she? How could he have failed to watch over her? He swallowed hard. An image of Valinor came to him, cold and empty. Regardless where he went, it would be pointless.

"Mira!" he shouted and heard his own voice break.

"Here," came a weak reply.

Haldir twisted around and saw a pile of orc bodies behind him.

"Haldir!" he heard her voice again. He rushed to the pile and grabbing one of the bodies by the back of its armour, tossed it away. Below, he could see one of Mira's legs from beneath a very large orc carcass. He set his sword down and pulled at the orc with both hands, and felt a stab of pain run up his injured arm and straight into the base of his skull. He felt lightheaded and the world blurred for a moment.

Swallowing hard, he planted his feet and raised the orc's body and tossed it to his left. Mira emerged from beneath. She was winded and white faced. Haldir felt the rush of relief overwhelm him.

"I skewered him and he fell right on top of me," she explained. "I'm fine, stop glowering at me!"

He grasped her hand with his left and pulled her to her feet.

"What's wrong with your arm?"

"Nothing!" he snapped and twisted away from her outstretched hand.

"Haldir, what's wrong?"

"Nothing!" he snapped again. "Stay focused!" He turned his back on her and searched the field for more orcs. He felt an overwhelming anger mixed in with the pain. He'd stayed too long, let himself feel too much.

Then Aragorn was beside him and then Legolas and Gimli. Mira laughed out loud at the sight of them.

"You've made it!" she shouted.

"Did you ever doubt it?" Legolas asked and embraced her.

Haldir locked his jaw together until it hurt.

Aragorn clasped him on the shoulder.

"Well met, my friend," he greeted him, and Haldir, still holding his right arm awkwardly with his left, nodded in response.

"You were successful," Haldir said, looking out over the fields. "Lord Elrond was right."

"Aye, he was. Although there were a few close moments."

"Never doubted it for a second," they heard Gimli boast to Mira a few paces away.

"This battle would have been lost without you," Haldir admitted to Aragorn.

"But the Rohirrim held the field long enough to save the city, and give us a chance."

Haldir felt the pain in his arm heighten until his shoulder and skull ached. Gingerly, he lifted the arm flap of his armour and saw white bone sticking out through his tunic. He drew in a sharp breath at the sight. It was worse than he imagined.

"You'd better head to the city and the House of Healing," Aragorn instructed.

Haldir heard Mira's gasp as she saw his broken arm.

"You call that nothing?" she exploded.

"I am fine," Haldir ground out through his teeth and turned away from her.

"What in the world is wrong with you?" she yelled. "Why can't you say you're wounded, like regular people?"

"I said I'm fine."

"Yeah, fine, except for a bone sticking right through your arm. You stubborn fool of an elf!"

"I'll take him to the city," Aragorn told her. Mira tried to follow them, but Legolas put his hand on her arm and held her back.

"Let them go," he told her.

"But I want to make sure he's alright."

"He will be. Let him go."

She turned on him.

"This is a broken arm for the Valar's sake," she bit out angrily. "Not a metaphor for him leaving Middle Earth."

"Perhaps it is for him," Legolas replied, and suddenly all the fight went out of Mira. She turned away. "You're very protective of him," Legolas said quietly.

"I care for him!" she yelled, hiding the tears that spilled on her cheeks.

"It will only be harder for you."

"Well, it's too late for that, isn't it," she scoffed over her shoulder and walked off towards the ranks of the Rohirrim who were searching the field for survivors. She walked fast, wiping furiously at her eyes. "Too damn late for that," she murmured.


	9. Chapter 9

He was standing in the walled garden once again. Trellises of red roses lined the walls. The air was fragrant and warm. Haldir turned around looking for Mira. When he had dreamed of this place before she'd been right behind him, but now he couldn't see her. He started walking, following the white stones laid in between rows of flowers. He didn't have to look long. She was standing beside a white bench. He noticed again her golden dress, and the yellow flowers in her braided hair. It made her hair look darker and her eyes golden brown.

She smiled when she saw him. A streak of joy before her eyes turned sad. She walked to him and took his hand in hers. Her lips parted and Haldir held his breath.

A pan clattered to the floor and Haldir's eyes opened.

"Mira!" he called out.

A woman in a flowing white gown rushed to his side, and Haldir remembered. He was in the House of Healing. Aragorn had brought him in. The healers, they'd helped him removed his armour and asked him to lie down. They'd reset his arm, and the pain had been like a sun exploding in his head. He'd passed out.

He tried to stand up only to have the healer push him gently back down into the bedding.

"I need to see Mira," he told the woman.

"Shh," she crooned, "you need to sleep."

"Where's Mira," he repeated. "Aragorn?"

The woman shook her head.

"Can't see them now." Her eyes turned dull. "They've all gone to the Black Gate."

Haldir felt his blood freeze. He struggled against the healer, throwing his feet over the edge of the bed and sitting up. His arm throbbed like it was being cut apart. The room spun and his eyes were blinded by thousands of pinpricks of light.

"Help!" the woman shouted, "I need help!" Two other healers converged and pushed him down. "Please, you need to rest," the healer told him.

Haldir drew deep breaths, forcing himself not to pass out again. The healer lifted his head.

"Here, drink this."

His lips were parched. He gulped down the liquid without a thought. Then his eyes opened wide, for he could taste the herb that brought deep sleep boiled into it.

"No!" he cried out, trying to spit the brew out. "I cannot sleep. She cannot go without me."

"Shh," the healer crooned and Haldir felt his limbs grow heavy. "You cannot go anywhere. You must sleep."

As unconsciousness took him, Haldir thought of the garden and willed himself to go back there. If he slept long enough, perhaps Mira would tell him what she'd been trying to say. If only he could dream of it again, and see her, he could forget for a while the healer's words. That she'd gone to the Black Gate. That she'd gone without him.

Haldir fell asleep and for the first time in months, he had no dreams.

...

Mira saw the sky streak above her as her horse reared up and bounced her out of the saddle, and then she hit the ground. Pain exploded in her back and up her spine into her skull, and for a few seconds she couldn't draw breath into her lungs. She panicked, her arms clawed uselessly in the dirt. The horse reared again above her and Mira pushed her body over and rolled to her left to avoid having her skull smashed in.

Her lungs remembered their purpose and she drew a shuddering breath. She stumbled to her feet like a drunkard getting up off the floor and drew her sword. Her heart was pounding with the rush of battle and with fear.

Orcs swarmed around them. One noticed her now that she was on her feet and charged at her, teeth bared. Mira stumbled backwards. She brought her arm up and parried the hit. The orc was strong. She felt her sword arm tremble under the weight of the other blade. The orc pushed his face towards hers, stopping just inches away, and leered. Its breath was rank and warm. Mira shuddered and felt the contents of her stomach rise into her throat. She swallowed and with a yell of disgust, shoved the orc off. She attacked, sword slashing, forcing the snarling creature back. It leered at her again, bracing for counterattack, when suddenly its body went stiff with surprise and then crumpled to the ground.

Gimli set a foot on the orc's back for leverage and pulled his axe out from its spine.

"I had him," Mira said, sounding much less gracious than she meant to be.

"My apologies," the dwarf grumbled with a mock bow. "He was in my way." He turned and launched himself towards another target.

Mira looked around. Another orc had already slipped through their ranks and was coming towards her. She feigned an attack on her left foot and while the orc reached to its right to parry, she skipped to her right and cut it deep under its plate armour. The orc's eyes rounded with surprise as it fell to its knees.

Her father had taught her that move. Her father who was now cold in his grave, long dead and gone. He'd been stabbed in the back by a Mordor creature during a skirmish.

She remembered that and skewered the nearest orc from behind as it engaged a Gondorian guard.

"My thanks!" the man said before he was again too busy for such pleasantries.

Mira felt the warmth of the orc's dark blood soak through her gloves. She was shaking. If she was honest with herself, she would admit that she was frightened. This time, Haldir was not beside her. And she felt his absence like a cold wind at her back.

She could see Gimli a few feet away, Legolas and Aragorn a bit further down. Gamling and Eomer were together but much farther away. But as the orcs kept coming, they were all being pushed further apart. On the Pelennor Fields Haldir had watched for her, never left her side. She now was well and truly alone.

She looked around and saw that the orc ranks outnumbered their own almost ten to one. If ever she realized how desperate this fight was, it was now. Aragorn had told them as much. He hadn't tricked them to the Black Gate with false promises of success. She only hoped they would last long enough for the ringbearer to reach his destination. She hoped their deaths would not be in vain.

And if they survived, then what? There would be so much evil to wipe clean off the face of Middle Earth. Perhaps she could take a quiet farm and keep cows. She could picture it: the rolling pasture, a half a dozen heads of cattle, a little house, and Haldir chopping wood. Haldir. Haldir! He wouldn't be there, would he? She felt a wave of hysterical laughter bubble in her throat. If she let it out she wasn't sure if she would laugh or scream or cry.

She threw her body into an orc's that was holding a man down, bloody knife at his throat. She did it awkwardly, and stumbled to the ground afterwards, bruising her knees. But the orc lost its footing, and the man broke free, rolled over, and sliced his sword right through the orc's neck, severing the head from the shoulders in a splatter of blood. She wiped at where the droplets landed on her face, but forgot that her gloves were also soaked in orc blood. She felt a wave of nausea rise in her throat and holding her stomach, she doubled over and threw up the meager meal she'd had hours earlier.

How did one keep cows after this?

She thought of Haldir so far away, and she felt a knot grow painful in her chest. The fight was over for him. Regardless of how this battle ended, Haldir would join his people and leave Middle Earth. She hoped he would live a long and happy life. She wondered if he would stand on the shores of Valinor a thousand years hence and look at the horizon towards Middle Earth and remember her at all.


	10. Chapter 10

The sun was scorching hot, and Mira was glad for the cool breeze. Her arms ached from lifting pots all morning.

Legolas and Gimli had asked her to join them and a band of Gondorian solders to drive out any leftover of Sauron's host from the south at Emyn Arnen to Osgiliath, and north to Cair Andros. She'd turned them down. As much as she'd have liked to spend more time with them, she was sick of battle.

She'd joined the women of Minas Tirith who were busy feeding the remaining armies of Rohan, still camped outside the city gates on the Pelennor fields. Some had already headed home, but others stayed behind, waiting on their new king.

She'd volunteered to load and unload the carts. By midday, her arms felt weak and shaky with fatigue.

"You've earned a rest, My Lady," one of the women told her, handing her a cup with water and a bowl of stew. She'd tried to get them to call her Mira, but her elven blood, evident in her features and bearing, made her stand out, and the women couldn't bring themselves to dispense of the formality. Mira watched them settle for their own meal, familiar and at ease amongst each other, and sighed. She was apart no matter where she went.

She walked through the gates and sat on a slab of white stone in the shadow of the wall and looked up at the city above her.

Minas Tirith was a beautiful place. The sun shone off the white stone, and Mira had to shade her eyes not to be blinded. Somewhere up there, on the seventh level, Haldir was probably having his midday meal with the elves of Lothlorien.

She closed her eyes and buried her face in her hands.

Her mind drifted again to the days after the final battle. They'd returned from the Black Gate and marched into the city. She'd been shaking with exhaustion, but after stabling her horse, her feet took her straight to the House of Healing.

Haldir had been asleep. She couldn't bear to wake him, but stood by his bed and watched him until the healers had made her leave. The next day, she woke up late, washed and rushed back only to be told that he had gone.

"Gone where?" she'd asked, trying to hide her panic.

Elves had come, the healer told her. She'd given her the sort of pitying look one might give a child who'd just learned that all that lives must die. An elf did not belong amongst humans. What did it matter where he went?

Mira rushed to find Aragorn. He, at least, was easily spotted. The entire city's eyes were on him, their hopes and dreams anchoring themselves to him. The king who had returned.

"Aragorn, where's Haldir?" Mira asked him as soon as she reached him.

"His kin are here," he said. "I think they are above," he glanced towards the terraces. "In the rose gardens."

Mira had rushed in that direction and found herself in a walled garden full of blossoms. She looked around her bewildered. This beautiful place had survived in the midst of all the madness.

She walked quickly down the stone-paved paths. She couldn't see anyone at first, but then, at the far end of the gardens, she found them. The elves of Lothlorien, in their beautiful white and golden garb, tall and serene. One heard her, turned towards her. The group parted and she saw amongst them the Lady Galadriel. Their eyes met.

_"The time for partings has come, daughter of man,"_ the White Lady spoke into her mind. She stepped aside and behind her stood Haldir.

"Haldir!" Mira called.

He looked well. So well! Gone were his bloody armour and weapons. He wore the white garb of Marchwarden, and his eyes were clear and well rested.

And his face was a mask.

"Saarsta's daughter," he greeted her, and his voice was cool and light and completely devoid of any feeling. "Well met!"

"You are well, Haldir," Mira said. _Call me by my own name_, she wanted to yell at him, but bit her tongue. The host of Lothlorien had come to claim their own. This was the Haldir she had first met when the elves had offered her shelter, and he was a stranger.

She walked to him and took his hand in hers. The elves parted before her to give her room. Haldir's eyes stayed on her face, and his hand rested lightly in hers, ready to let go as soon as she did. She supposed she should be grateful that he was letting her touch him at all. After all, it was not the elven way.

She wanted to tell him that she'd missed him. She wanted to tell him about the horror of the battle, and the relief of victory, knowing he would listen and understand. The Haldir she'd known these last few weeks would have understood. The words lodged in her throat and she searched his eyes for a sign that they would be welcome.

His gaze was not unkind, but distant.

Mira swallowed and nodded. She looked around her at the other elves. She'd hoped they would move off, give them some measure of privacy, but they stood in a circle, watching.

She let go of Haldir's hand. For a second, she though he would hold on to her, but then his fingers loosened and were gone.

"I'm glad to see you well," Mira said, attempting a smile. She glanced at the elves again. "I will leave you." She knew her own composure could never be as convincing as theirs. She was, after all, half human. So she turned quickly and walked away. She pushed the tears and the grief down, felt it lodge in her chest, beneath her ribs like a stone. A few more weeks and he'd be gone. And then she could cry.

"Come and eat with us, lass," one of the women spoke, breaking Mira out of her memories. She lowered the hands covering her eyes and had to blink against the bright light to focus on her face. The woman smiled at her. She was older, with deep wrinkles etched into her face. She'd called her 'lass', and not 'My Lady'.

Mira felt something break in her chest and suddenly she was crying.

...

"Haldir, walk with me a while," Aragorn asked as the council broke up. Haldir nodded and followed him outside on to the terrace.

They looked out over the low stone parapet to the lower levels and the fields beyond. Repairs were underway. The city was teeming with activity and energy. People were solemn still, but they were out from under the shadow. Despite a lack of outward celebration, there was a thrum of life bubbling beneath the surface.

"You've been very busy," Haldir commented.

"There is so much to do."

"You are looking forward to it, I think."

Aragorn nodded. "I am. This, at last, is not a labour born of despair. We are granted another chance to live. How can we not take it?" He turned to Haldir. "And you, my friend? You would enjoy this also. I know this much, for you gave me good advice earlier during the council."

"My story is at an end," Haldir said tonelessly. "The White Lady rests here until your coronation, and to see her granddaughter come. And then we will depart."

"Is it what you want?"

Haldir glanced at his friend in surprise.

Days ago, before the White Lady arrived, he was filled with anger, despair and confusion. Mira, alone at the Black Gate, while he lay helpless in a hospital bed. The terrible ache in his chest at being apart from her, not able to protect her. He remembered the sharp stab of relief when Aragorn had told him that she lived.

And then the Lady Galadriel had arrived. She'd hastened the healing of his arm. He had no need for the healers any longer. He'd left the Houses of Healing and the elves took him to a rose garden on the terraces of Minas Tirith. The garden he'd dreamed of so often of late, where he'd waited for Mira to speak her mind. What would she had said? Now he'll never know.

"What happened to you, Haldir, when the elves arrived?" Aragorn asked him, startling him out of his recollections.

Haldir looked out over the fields. There were hundreds of tents still set up, people milling about, carts and wagons with provisions streaming in and out of the city. Women had been wheeling out food for the riders all morning. Haldir looked down but saw none of it.

"She took it away," he spoke finally.

"Mira?"

"No, the Lady Galadriel of Lothlorien, whom I serve."

"What did she take away, Haldir?" Aragorn asked urgently.

"The sight. The gift of sight." Haldir turned to his human friend and for a brief moment there was a look of despair in his eyes. "She gave it to me and now she took it away. She told me my need for it was over. And now I will never know, for it may never come to pass." Mira, the garden, the joy in her eyes, all gone.

"Know what?"

Haldir shook his head. The despairing look was gone.

"It matters not."

But in his mind's eye, he still saw Mira's face, the hurt and betrayal he'd seen in her eyes when she'd come to find him in the gardens. He was a warrior. He knew that a clean cut made a wound heal faster. In the undying lands, perhaps the hole in his heart would heal. After all, that is where those with wounds too grave for this world had gone. Or perhaps he would stop feeling anything at all. Anything would be better than this.


	11. Chapter 11

"Come, now, Master Elf," Gamling scolded him, "you and I fought together. Will you not share a drink with me?"

The celebration following Aragorn's coronation was underway. Musicians played and the fire roared in the hearths. Servants poured out from the kitchens laden with trays of food and drink. Some of the company had taken to the middle of the hall and were dancing.

Haldir had spent the night at a table he shared with the elves of Lothlorien. They drank little and sat quietly, observing the festivities but not joining in.

The guests from Rohan were seated at the other end of the hall, and Gamling had made his way through the crowd with two tankards of ale, one in each hand. He offered one of them to Haldir now, arm outstretched, a large smile on his earnest face.

Haldir glanced at the Lothlorien elves behind him. They were observing the old Rohan warrior with cool eyes. Gamling's clothes were a little wrinkled. His cheeks a bit red from the heat and the ale. His hair was as wild as it had been in battle, and there was ale foam in his beard. One of the elves let his eyes roam over Gamling and then imperceptibly raised an eyebrow.

Haldir felt shame flood him over his own hesitation. This was Gamling, who sang sweet songs by the fire, toasted shared grief with and elf and a dwarf, fought like a lion by his king's side for the land of a neighbour.

"I will have a drink with you, Master Gamling," Haldir said, taking up the offered tankard. He clasped a hand on Gamling's back and they walked away from the circle of the elves. He'd never thought he'd be ashamed of his own kind.

"There's a good lad," Gamling beamed. Haldir grinned at being called a lad by the man so many years his junior.

"Marchwarden!" boomed Gimli as they crossed paths, Legolas right behind him. Haldir bowed and toasted tankards with them both.

"You remember our young friends?" Gimli gestured to the Hobbits who also bowed from their table. Two wore plain clothing while a third was dressed in the garb of Rohan and the fourth in that of Gondor.

"I remember a mighty fellowship," Haldir nodded, "and strong of heart!"

He shook hands with Eomer, who talked and laughed but kept throwing glances towards where his sister danced with the Gondor Captain, Faramir. Aragorn rose from the high table and joined them for a while, until Arwen herself came and led him in a dance.

Gamling replaced the now empty tankard in Haldir's hand with a full one, and they stood and watched the dancers.

Haldir had tried not to look at Mira all day long. He knew she was there, in fact, he'd known where she was at all times, like a beacon in the dark. He could sense her across the room, as if she was a fixed point and he moved around her. And since everyone but Gamling had moved away, he could hardly avoid looking at her now.

She was dressed in a buttercup-yellow dress, the one he'd dreamed of, her hair half braided and half loose on her back. Her cheeks were flushed from dancing. Her partner swung her around and she laughed with an abandon Haldir had never seen. He'd never seen her this happy, and it thrilled him and saddened him at the same time.

"A pretty lass," Gamling said, noticing Haldir's gaze. "And full of courage."

"Yes," Haldir nodded. There was no point lying about it.

"You should be out there, dancing with her."

"Me?"

"Aye, she's your lass, ain't she?" Gamling said vehemently.

"No, she's not mine," Haldir said, and couldn't keep the regret out of his voice.

The music came to a stop and the dancers paused and clapped. Mira, stood and clapped with the others, and then turned her head and looked straight at Haldir, as if she'd known all along where he was.

"I'd say that's for lack of trying, then," Gamling declared. He looked between them and shook his head.

Haldir held Mira's gaze. The musicians started another tune and the people cheered and found partners. Haldir wished childishly that he could walk up, take Mira's hand and lead her to the dance floor with the others. His feet itched to move to the rhythm of the song. Hundreds of years listening to the most beautiful music in Lothlorien, and he'd never felt this great need to dance as he did now, to the call of slightly out-of-tune human fiddles.

A man walked up to Mira demanding her attention and she turned, breaking eye contact with Haldir. Haldir let out the breath that he didn't know he'd been holding. He tossed back the rest of the ale in his tankard.

"I'd better go," he said to Gamling, then turned and walked out of the hall.

He walked aimlessly, careless of where his feet were taking him. He watched the cobblestones before him, barely lifting his head. Night had fallen. Torches anchored to the white walls lit his path.

He walked and walked, not looking at his surroundings, until the light from the torches faded and he could smell the perfume of roses in the air. He looked around him suddenly. He was in the rose garden. He could still see around him, despite the lack of torches, and for the first time since he came out of the hall, he glanced up at the sky.

Haldir stopped in his tracks and gasped.

Above him, rising like a cupola of light, was the sky he'd dreamed of before the battle of Helm's Deep. It stretched all around him, a billion stars and constellations arranged in the heavens, bright and glimmering.

He felt his chest tighten, and for the first time in more than two hundred years, he felt tears wet his cheeks.

"It is here," he murmured. "I am alive for this."

He felt a bolt shoot through his spine from the tip of his head to the soles of his feet. Speaking the words out loud had sealed his fate. Everything had brought him to this. The gift of sight that the While Lady bestowed on him had saved his life not once but twice. And now she was right once more. He needed it no longer.

He walked briskly to the wall where he could look down upon the torch-lit terraces of Minas Tirith and below them, to the fields stretching to the Anduin, bathed silver in the starlight. There was so much to do, so much he could help with. Aragorn was right to look forward to it. And now he would as well.

Something unfolded in his chest, a joy he had not felt in years. He wanted to shout it out.

He heard the steps behind him and without having to look he knew that she had followed him. He turned and saw her by the light of the stars, silver and gold.

"You could have stayed a bit longer," Mira said. "Had a dance for old times' sakes. But you act like you've already gone."

"It was easier this way," he found himself saying.

She scoffed. "For who? Was it easier for you?"

"Yes," he admitted.

"I thought we were friends, Haldir," she whispered. A bird sang quietly in the garden. From beyond the walls, the sounds of the celebration came, far away and muted, as if from another world.

"We were."

"But no longer?"

She shrunk back from him. He could only see her silhouette in the darkness, but the hurt in her voice made his spine tingle. He was still hurting her, always hurting her, even though he didn't need to. Not anymore.

He reached for her, and despite her resistance, pulled her to him. He took both her hands in his and squeezed them to his chest. He hugged her close.

"Always, Mira," he pleaded.

"No," she cried, her face against his chest. "Not like this. Don't say always when you'll say goodbye on the morrow. I don't want your friendship!"

"What do you want then, Mira?" he asked. "Say it. Anything. Please," he whispered in her hair. "Anything you want from me, I will do. I will cut out my living heart for you."

"Oh, Haldir, that's the stupidest thing you've ever said to me," she said crossly, but she stilled her struggles. "What are you saying?"

"Do you not know?"

"I don't want it cut out," she whispered with her cheek next to his, her mouth near his ear.

He was quiet, a smile lifting the corners of his mouth in the dark.

"But you want it?" he asked, speaking against her cheek. She was warm and she trembled a little.

"Yes, I want it," she whispered back, her lips like moth wings against his skin.

His mouth sought hers and he kissed her softly.

"It's yours," he said and kissed her again, lifting her in his arms so that her feet left the ground. "It's yours," he repeated.


	12. Epilogue

Haldir rode home, tired and dusty and more than a little exhilarated. Faramir rode beside him. Their journey had been a success in more ways than he anticipated.

Haldir had come to enjoy the Stewart's company and friendship. He was a man as different from his brother Boromir as night is from day. Over the last two years, they'd journeyed and fought together quite a few times in Elessar's service.

As they approached Minas Tirith, Haldir noticed Faramir's extra nudge to his horse and increased speed. He glanced sideways at the man and smiled.

"In a hurry, aren't you?"

Faramir replied with a hearty laugh.

"Well, are you not?"

Haldir only smiled and pressed his horse faster. He heard Faramir's laughter behind him, and they raced down the road towards the citadel gates.

The changes that had taken place on the Pelennor Fields in the last two years were astounding. Dwellings and crop fields had replaced the empty wasteland they had once been. People had come and stayed and were thriving. Hundreds gathered on Market Days, filling the Fields all the way from the Anduin to the city gates.

Inside the gates they dismounted and gave their reins to pages already waiting for their arrival. Halfway up to the King's seat, Elessar met them on foot.

"Well met, my King," Haldir said with a bow.

Aragorn just smiled and embraced him.

"Every time you leave," he started, "you return full of formalities, my friend."

Haldir smiled ruefully. "And each time, you rid me of them," he replied.

Aragorn heard their quick report thoughtfully and then with undisguised pleasure. He nodded silently and clapped both of them on the back.

"We'll talk more about this later," he said and dismissed them both to their homes.

Haldir's rooms overlooked both the rose gardens and westward over the Anduin. He called Mira's name as he entered, but got no reply. A bath was waiting for him, sign that she knew of his return, despite her absence.

Haldir sighed and began removing his dusty clothes. He lowered himself into the tub of water, leaned back with another sigh and closed his eyes.

He heard the door open slowly and the almost silent sound of padded footsteps advancing into the room.

"Enjoying the view?" he asked, his eyes still closed.

"It is exceptionally pleasant," she replied from above him, and he could tell from her voice that she was grinning. The corners of his own lips lifted in response.

She knelt beside the tub and placed her lips on his, wrapping both arms around his neck.

"Welcome home, my Lord," she said against his lips.

Haldir sighed with contentment and snaked an arm around her, pulling her closer. She squeaked as the sleeves of her dress went under the water. He reluctantly released his hold on her and watched her lean back on her heels beside the tub.

His arm still rested on her shoulder, his fingers playing with the loose strands of hair by her ear.

"I've missed you," he said.

"Terribly?"

He grinned. "Well, a little..."

She dipped her hand in the tub and splashed water in his face. He returned the favour without qualms.

"There's news, you know," she said, drying her face on one of the towels. "King Eomer and Gamling are in the city."

Haldir's eyes widened with pleasure. Mira nodded, smiling.

"There's been quite a bit happening while you've been away. I think we might even see a wedding soon."

Haldir raised an eyebrow.

"Eomer's?"

"Aye. To Imrahil's daughter. Something about a bolting horse and a rohir coming to the rescue." She grinned wider. "You know how these things happen."

He pulled her in and kissed her, his palm caressing her cheek.

"Did you find what you were looking for?" she asked after a while. She bit her lip while waiting for him to answer.

He nodded. "Aye, I did."

Her eyes widened. "So it is true. There are elves still in Middle Earth."

He nodded gravely trying to hide his excitement, while trying to read her reaction. "There are those that chose to call it home forever more, as I did. And as you did," he added. "They've already cleared lower Rhovanion of orcs and they're moving upwards through Mirkwood, clearing all traces of the enemy as they go. Faramir and I first saw traces of them in Lorien, and caught up with them north of East Bight." He brushed his hand across her forehead, frowning a little. "What are you thinking?"

She mirrored his caress. "I am thinking that they ought not live apart from us."

Haldir smiled, a broad, reassured smile. "That is what I thought," he said. "I've already suggested so to their leaders."

"They asked you to join them, didn't they?" she asked searching his face, taking in his surprise. She smiled knowingly. He had tried to hide that from her.

"I am more than happy where I am," he said in reply. He cupped her face and pulled her close.

"Must you report to Aragorn soon?" she asked against his lips. Of all of them, she alone still called the King by his name of old, no formalities.

"He said 'later'."

Mira grinned. "Well, then, I'd better take this dress off before we get it completely wet."

She stood above the tub and unlaced her dress. Haldir lay back and watched her.

"That's a very fetching corset," he murmured appreciatively, and she giggled and tossed the praised garment off somewhere behind her.

...


End file.
